Taking Her Boss Read Online Free PDF

sex already pressing against my opening. My feet, clad in a pair of burgundy strappy heels, found purchase against the cement wall a couple of feet behind him.
    He leaned forward and found home, filling me completely, the width of him leaving no room as it made a slow drag deep into my center. He hit bottom, breathed a sigh, found my mouth again and pulled almost all the way out. I waited, my pussy making clutching movements, eager for his return. He came back and I scooted toward him trying to squeeze him, to hold him, but he had found his rhythm. Leaning forward, he secured me with his shoulders, chest and hands as he continued his assault, pounding into me. The fullness and the bliss of the slide in and out caused my legs to tremble against his. I closed my eyes as he began to swell inside me, the hardness pushing against my walls, the pace crazy, out of control, the rough hair of his groin setting fire to my too sensitive labia. I bit the thick cloth at his shoulder to keep from screaming, and then he was coming. His fingers clenched my nether cheeks as he tried to pull me even closer, and then I was spiraling. The muscles of my sex clenched and pulled at him milking him as I came and came, my juice making a broth with his.
    When I came to my senses, he was still holding me, his sex softer, but still tucked into me.
    “Okay?” he grinned.
    I laughed, “Yeah, okay. But we can’t keep this up like this. There has to be protection.”

    “Fine, as long as there is a next time.”
    “I want to get down.”
    He stepped back. His sex plopped out and fell slack between his legs. I slid my legs down and pulled at my skirt, trying to right it. Linen is an unforgiving fabric. He tucked himself and his shirt away and zipped himself. When he was done he was a bit rumpled, but the lightweight wool of his suit was much more resilient than my linen.
    “Come home with me?”
    “Not tonight.” I shook my head. “I need my bath. I need a long soak and lavender salts.”
    “I have a bathtub…and salts.”
    “I need time.”
    He nodded and stepped back. His foot found my purse where it had fallen. He picked it up and handed it to me. I retrieved my keys and opened the car door.
    “See you in the morning,” I said as I got into the car.
    He nodded, and as I pulled the door closed and started the engine, he walked to the edge of the cement wall and waited for me to drive away.
     
    The next morning I was replete with guilt and misgivings. Angry at myself for being weak, for not sticking to my guns. But Bruce was back in Davies mode, very much in charge and charming the office staff and account execs alike, bolstering them with praise for small deeds, and letting them down easy when he didn’t like a pitch. On his way out at lunchtime, he stopped at the door between our offices.
    “Dinner at seven. That little French place on Eighth,” he said, standing in the open door, pulling on his suit coat.
    “Who’s the mark?” I asked.
    “I had Claire make the reservations,” he answered as he pulled the door to him. “I’ll see you there.” The door clicked closed and he was gone.
    I had Cup-a-Soup for lunch, microwaved in the little kitchen down the hall, and sipped over a desk full of contracts.
    Claire came back from lunch and I gave her the contracts with my corrections and asked her who Davies and I were having dinner with.
    “He asked me to make the reservations for two,” she said. “I didn’t know you were going. Should I make it for three?” she asked.
    “No, I just thought…” And I didn’t know what else to say, how to clean it up.
    “Oh, maybe it’s a raise or a promotion,” she said, brightening as though she’d caught wind of something.
    “I don’t think…” I tried.
    “Maybe he wants to surprise you. He can be so thoughtful,” she gushed.
    “Do you think you can finish the corrections before four? I’d like to make sure Legal got them before five,” I asked, changing the